Reflections
by WittyRavenclawWriter
Summary: Harry Potter is being haunted by the horrific events at the Malfoy Manor. He takes a walk in the middle of the night to reflect on the war and the pain it has brought him. One-shot.


**Author's Note: So, I wanted to post a story for Harry Potter's birthday on July 31 (Yes, I do realize I'm a few days late), and while trying to think of something to write, I remembered this little fic I wrote a good while ago but never intended to publish. It was originally supposed to be a romance between Harry and Luna, but I've edited her out so it's just Harry, reflecting on the painful Malfoy Manor incident. And I know this isn't exactly a cheerful birthday story, but at least it's something. Please, please, **_**please**_** review, you know it means the world to me!**

* * *

Harry Potter felt like a prisoner in his own mind. The moon hovered in the sky like a great orb, and he wondered what time it was. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to feel. He knew he should sleep, but whenever he closed his eyes images from the less than twenty-four hours flashed before him. He felt extremely exhausted, but at the same time felt as though his mind was permanently set on alert and could never possibly sleep. He lay on his back and rubbed his scar as he tried to block out the images of the werewolf Greyback… Crazed Bellatrix… The Malfoys, living in their cold, dark manor… He could still see their horrible faces, as though burned into his memory permanently. He didn't want to think, he wanted to just be numb, and never have to face another living soul again. He shivered underneath the blankets, his mind reliving the horrific events that he so wished to escape, against his will.

Harry pushed his blankets off him and swung his feet over the side of the bed. He felt that if he hadn't already done so, he would go mad for sure, staying here with nothing to do but think of the recent events. Grabbing Draco's wand, his glasses, and a jacket, he crept through the house quietly, trying to avoid waking the others. As noiselessly as possible, he pushed open the front door and stepped out into the salty sea air. The chilly wind whipped at his hair as he set off down the shore, not really knowing where he was going. He felt a dreadful pang of grief and guilt as he passed Dobby's grave. He looked down in mild surprise at his feet as the terribly icy water soaked them and realized he'd forgotten shoes. He shrugged to himself, not really caring at all. He felt as though someone had shut off his senses and he was just his thoughts, drifting away from his body, not caring or feeling anything. Why had this happened to him? Why had nearly everyone he loved been taken away from him? Luna, Dean, and Mr. Ollivander had been held captive at the Malfoy Manor for how long he did not know (and did not particularly want to find out); Hermione had been nearly tortured to death; and then Dobby… he could see the sharp dagger protruding from his chest, the scarlet stain spreading across his grubby tunic.

And all at once, he could see their faces quite clearly; everyone who had sacrificed themselves for him. Starting with his mother and father, then his godfather, and then finally Dumbledore, who had been the closest thing to a parent-figure he'd had left. And now he wasn't even sure if Dumbledore had ever even cared about him at all. It was his fault, all his fault. He suddenly found himself wishing he could have perished alongside his parents that fateful evening when Voldemort's Killing Curse had rebounded. Then he could be with them. He could be with his parents, Sirius, and all the others who had stood in front of curses meant for him.

He couldn't take it. He couldn't handle the wave of grief, and anger, the pain of all his losses. He wanted to grab fistfuls of his own hair and rip it out. He wanted to scream into the night and stamp his bare feet on the sand and cry. He yelled a stream of the dirtiest curse words he knew (Courtesy of Uncle Vernon) and let out a short sob. A few hot tears leaked out from his eyes and streamed down his cheeks.

He sat down on the beach, not caring whether his clothes became sandy, and stared up at the night sky. There were more stars in the sky than he had ever seen before. It was like a jar of sugar had been dumped on a dark backdrop (Harry knew what this looked like, as Dudley had once poured the entire contents of the sugar bowl onto a navy-blue carpet, which resulted in Aunt Petunia vacuuming for hours, desperate to pick up every last grain). Each star seemed to twinkle merrily, and Harry was put in awe at the fact that he had been able to find something so beautiful at such an awful time. The winking stars reminded him of how Ginny's brown eyes shimmered in the light. Harry found himself wondering what she was doing right now. Was she lying awake in bed, wondering about the safety of her family, or sleeping peacefully? Harry felt an ache in his stomach and he longed to see her, to be able to touch her sweet hair, kiss her soft lips, and whisper that he loved her in her ear…

He hadn't lost everyone. He still had Ginny. And Ron and Hermione. Luna, and Hagrid, and Bill and Fleur, and many more. People were still fighting, they hadn't given up. As he gazed up at the sky once more, he realized that all hope wasn't yet lost. He could still defeat the Dark Lord, he wasn't going to give up. Yes, this battle had given him scars—both physically and mentally—but some scars you just have to overcome, grow bigger than.

Harry looked at the watch that the Weasleys had given him for his birthday on his wrist. It read 1:30 a.m., and Harry felt a surge of guilt. What would everyone at Shell Cottage think if they awoke to find him missing? He broke into a run, realizing he had gone farther down the beach than he thought he had. He finally came to the dark and silent house, pushed open the door. He hurried to the bedroom he was sharing with Ron and Dean. He quietly stripped off his sandy pajamas and changed into fresh ones, then crawled into his bed. As the Boy Who Lived pulled the blankets up to his chin and closed his eyes, it didn't even cross his mind that this was the first time in hours he hadn't been troubled by visions of the Malfoy Manor. There was a faint smile upon his face as Harry Potter drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Did you love it? Hate it? Review and let me know!****  
**


End file.
